The View From Above
by Zan1781
Summary: Rewrite. Three actual CSIlike cases, with a slight fanciful twist. Will the team be able to solve the crimes? And will Sara be able to survive her own personal demons? Slight NS in later chapters. Complete.
1. The View From Above

**A/N: **This is a re-write of the first story that I submitted to fanfiction (actually, it's the first CSI story that I ever wrote!). It has actual cases, and it is one of my favorites. I will put the first four chapters up now just to set the scene, and then I'll put one new chapter up a night, or as quickly as I edit them. Although the first chapter is… non-traditional, the rest of the chapters are as traditional as they come. I hope you like this story!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The View From Above: The Horse, the Stars, and the Bull_

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"I don't understand," Joan sighed to herself, swiveling her head to look first up one side of the corridor, and then down the other. "They think that they know everything, when in truth they really know nothing about the way that the world really works," she continued her vigil of the building, studying the wall in front of her. "Dreary. Plain and dreary." The interior of the lab left something to be desired. Of course the various offices had pictures on the wall, but the pictures were mostly scientific: the cardio-vascular system, a skeletal system, the periodic table of elements, proper crime-scene procedure, and her all-time favorite, the different stages of insect development. Very few people had family pictures displayed on their desks, and the scientists behaved as if they were, well, scientists: very clinical, succinct, and to the point. Their desks reflected this personality.

As Joan repositioned herself to watch the technicians and crime scene investigators move in and out of the various labs, she once again sighed, as the chug-chug-sputter-chug of the air conditioning system kicked back on. "Another hot night in Vegas; too hot, if you ask me," she muttered to herself. Humans always acted crazy in the heat. "Mark my words, there will be crime and chaos in town tonight," she added with her third sigh of the night.

Before Joan could finish another thought, however, her favorite CSI walked over to the computer just down the hallway. "So perfect," she said to herself, glancing over at Sara Sidle. "And so tough. Too tough, I suppose," she added, scratching her leg. "No human being should have to endure what she has had to endure." In the past six years, Sara has had to face her deepest, darkest fears: Abuse from her past, problems with alcohol, failed relationships… Sara was a work-a-holic, and Joan knew it. Sara was here more than the rest of them, because she had nowhere better to be. Or so she thought.

A couple of minutes later, another of her favorite graveyard shifters arrived: Nick Stokes. Nicky, as Joan lovingly called this particular CSI, had an even worse six years than Sara: guns pulled on him on several different occasions, a stalker, and being buried alive. No fun. Joan could not understand how Nicky was still functioning, especially because he had a difficult time talking to his co-workers about what happened. "And the funny thing is," Joan mused to herself, "Neither Sara nor Nick realize the power of friends. Friends can move mountains, friends can comfort you in a time of need. Friends can make the bad times seem better, and friends can make a horrible day seem that much better—with a mere smile." But Sara was always in her own little world, and Nicky? Well, Nicky just didn't know how much he actually needed a friend.

Joan sighed once more, until she noticed the boss-man walking in, with the one who wanted to be the boss-man trailing behind him like a lost, little puppy dog. "What do you have for me, David?" Grissom asked, turning his head to glance in Hodges's direction.

"Nothing yet, but I'm working on it. You'll be the first to know when the results come in."

"Good. Keep me posted," Grissom said, as he glanced at Warrick and Catherine working together in the layout room, Sara on her own sitting in front of a computer screen, Nick staring at nothing while leaning against one of the tables in the break-room, and Greg, bopping his head to music that only he could hear.

"I have assignments," Grissom then announced, gathering his team together around him in the break-room, and holding the tiny slips of paper up in the air. "It's going to be a long night," he told them all, giving each of them a hard-look before moving on to the next criminalist. "Sara, Nick, and Greg, you have a case over at Excalibur. Catherine and Warrick, you two head over to the Rocking Horse."

"And you, Grissom?" Catherine asked with a little twist of her lips, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"I have a date with destiny," he gave her a rare grin. Sara threw him a quizzical look, as he added, "At the planetarium."

"And I have my own work to do," Joan muttered to herself, crawling back up the wall to her favorite corner of the ceiling. Getting her eight arachnid legs moving, Joan began to add to her already large and intricate spider web.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	2. Excalibur: Part 1

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_Excalibur: Part 1_

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"Vegas has got to be the only place in the world where you can explore the great pyramids of Egypt, the Middle Ages, New York City, and Paris, all at the same time," Greg mused in awe, looking out his passenger side window at the profiles of the Luxor, Excalibur, New York, New York, and Paris. "Amazing. And the shows aren't all that bad, either," he added with a grin, throwing a look in Sara's general direction.

"What do you mean, Greg?" Sara asked with her own tiny smirk. "Do you regularly go and see the Thunder From Down Under?" she smiled at her co-worker, referring to Excalibur's all male dance show.

"Not my thing," he replied with a small shake of his head, once again turning his attention out of his window.

Before Greg could say anything further, Nick, trying to be the professional, interrupted his two partners. "So what do we have, guys?" he asked, taking his eyes off of the road for a brief moment to glance at Sara and Greg.

"According to the report," Sara paused a moment, looking down at the small slip of paper in her hand, "We have a DB at the Knights of the Round Table dinner show," she added, her voice rising at the end of the sentence as if she were asking a question. "It says here that no one knows what happened, and no one saw it."

"Not much to go on," Greg sighed, running a hand through his short, spiky hair.

"We'll know more when we get to the scene, Greggo," Nick smiled at his younger partner.

"Let's take it one step at a time," Sara added, giving Greg her own half smile. Although Greg was a talented CSI, and had the respect of his fellow graveyard shifters, the young man was sometimes quick to judge a situation—before gathering all of the facts around him. Last year, Sara had taken Greg under her wing, so to speak, mentoring him in the way that Grissom had previously mentored her. She enjoyed her role as a teacher, and was proud to see Greg successfully make the transition from lab technician to crime scene investigator.

"Right," Greg replied to both Nick and Sara.

Within minutes, the three crime scene analysts arrived at Excalibur, and parked their vehicle just outside of the front door, where Sofia Curtis was waiting for them. Grabbing their gear from the back of the Denali, they walked over to the blond detective, nodding a greeting.

"What's going on here?" Sara asked the detective, making eye contact with the other woman. Although Sara and Sofia did not always see eye-to-eye on things, Sara was starting to respect the other woman's presence at a crime scene.

"Thirty minutes before the start of the Knights of the Round Table show," Sofia began her narrative, looking each CSI in the eye, "the 'King' was found dead in his horse's stall."

"Uh… I'm guessing we're not talking about Elvis," Greg mumbled, taking a moment to observe the scene around him. Standing just inside of the double-wide doorway, Greg noticed enough chairs and long tables to seat hundreds and hundreds of people. The arena appeared to be split into sections, with each section representing a specific country denoted with that country's flag and insignia. Rather than a field, the middle of the arena was filled with dirt.

"Correct," Sofia answered Greg, a small smile on her face. "The Excalibur hotel puts on two 'Knights of the Round Table' dinner shows a night," she added. "Knights represent members of King Arthur's famed Round Table, participating in events such as jousting, hand-to-hand combat, and riding. –"

"Oh yeah, I heard about this," Nick cut in, looking first at Sofia, then Sara, and then Greg. "Fans come in for dinner, and cheer for whatever knight represents their particular section of the arena," he added. "Isn't there like a Black Knight and a White Knight"

"Yes," Sofia replied. "Representing good and evil. There are other knights, as well," she added.

"So who found King Arthur?" Sara finally asked, raising an eyebrow before heading over to the stall where John Gead, also known as King Arthur, was found dead.

"The Green Knight—Anthony Simmons—," Sofia replied, walking in stride with Sara. Greg and Nick trailed behind the two women, observing the people milling around the middle part of the dirt stadium.

"Hey, Sofia," Greg suddenly called out, realization dawning on him. "We need to get these people off of the dirt, and into the seats. Possible evidence with the footprints," he quickly added, as he, Nick, Sara, and Sofia, stepped to the side. With a quick, curt nod, Sofia took off to secure the rest of the scene.

Carefully picking their way over to the coroner, Sara greeted David Phillips with a gapped grin, kneeling down beside him. "Hello, David," she smiled, as her colleges surrounded David and the body.

"Hi Sara," he replied, glancing down at the body. "We have bruises to the face, neck and the arms. Been dead a couple of hours," he added, looking at his watch.

"It looks like someone was tired of King Arthur's reign," Greg ruefully said.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	3. The Planetarium: Part 1

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Planetarium: Part 1_

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Grissom checked his kit once more, before throwing it in the backseat of the Denali. It had been quite some time since he had last processed a scene on his own, but he was looking forward to the solitude of it. Although murders and crimes were grisly affairs, and completely unnecessary, there was something to be said about collecting the evidence that made prosecuting the bad guys possible. Without the crime scene investigators and the lab technicians, Grissom knew, well, there would be chaos and crime on every street corner.

Pulling up to the planetarium, Grissom stopped his vehicle just behind Brass's Taurus. "What do we have, Jim?" he asked his colleague, after getting out of the car, and grabbing his kit.

"Well," Brass said with a heavy sigh, "We have a room full of angry visitors, one dead body, and a silent seven year old boy with blood all over his hands and clothes. The scene has been released," he added.

Grissom raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the crowd of people gathered around the outside of the planetarium. To his left, he saw the coroner wheeling away the body, and an ambulance standing by 'just in case.' Grissom's eyes narrowed as he once again searched the crowd. He did not understand the humor in death, and was inwardly furious with the individuals who showed up at the scene of a crime just to gawk. "Did anyone see anything, Jim?" he then asked.

"So far, no," the detective replied. "We have interviewed five adults—two males and three females—and have three more to go. We haven't been able to get the boy to talk yet, although the paramedics have already checked him out. They are going to take him to the hospital in a couple of minutes, just to be sure that he is really unharmed. And," he added, "to try to figure out who he is. So far, no one is claiming him."

Grissom nodded, before taking his gloves out of his kit. Quickly slipping them on, he headed over toward the planetarium, with Brass walking beside him. Before getting too far, however, the duo ran into Al Robbins. "Doc?" he asked, surprised to see the man at the scene.

"Busy night," Al Robbins replied, leaning on his cane for a moment.

"So, what do we have?" Grissom inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Gun-shot wound to the head," the chief coroner said. "One hole, straight through. I'll know more when we autopsy."

"And Jim," Grissom said, "No one heard the shot?" he asked, completely surprised.

"The show playing had to deal with nature," Brass indicated, looking at Grissom. "And apparently, they were in the middle of the thunder scene."

Grissom nodded, understanding that the planetarium also doubled as an IMAX theater at times. "Okay. Thank you," he told the two gentlemen, continuing on toward the scene.

Entering the building, Grissom stopped just inside of the lobby, as he noticed the young boy sitting on a chair, staring blankly at absolutely nothing in front of him. "Hello," he said to the child, looking down at him. Grissom knew that whatever else was going on, the boy was probably in shock—and would be, for quite some time. He also realized that the child had to be processed, and soon. Grissom sighed. "What's your name?" he asked, in a quiet voice. The boy continued to stare at nothing, refusing to alter his gaze or even acknowledge Grissom's presence. "Okay. We will talk later," he kindly said, continuing to head toward the planetarium theater.

_This is going to be difficult. Very, very difficult_, Grissom thought to himself. Although a skilled scientist, he felt uncomfortable around emotional situations. He did not always know how to reach out to people, and preferred bugs to humans. At least insects were predictable, he always said to himself.

But this boy was an important key to this case, and someone needed to reach out to him. Grissom just wasn't sure if he was the right person for the job. Taking out his cell phone, Grissom hit one of the speed dials, waited for the person on the other end of the line to pick up, and then said: "I'm pulling you off of your case. I need you here." With that, he took out his flashlight, and began his search for the missing bullet.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	4. The Rocking Horse: Part 1

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title: **_The Rocking Horse: Part 1_

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With Warrick at the wheel, and Catherine in the passenger seat, the two CSIs arrived at the Rocking Horse in record time—even for Warrick's driving. "Do you think you could have gone any faster…?" Catherine asked him with a smile, smoothing out her hair. "Because… I think that my grandmother could have gone faster…" she teased him. "But coffee in one hand, wheel in the other, music blaring—nice driving, Warrick. Seriously!"

Warrick grinned, shrugging. "It's a gift," he simply said, as they got out of the vehicle, toting their kits with them.

Catherine laughed, as they walked into the bar. Directly inside of the door and to the right, she observed Detective Vance questioning someone—_the manager,_ she thought?—with his pen in one hand, and his notebook in the other.

"I don't know," she overheard. "I was running the mechanical bull competition—the same competition that we have every other Thursday night—and I got a phone call. I went to my office," the man said, "Picked up the phone, and there was no one there. I went back to the bull competition, and heard a crash from behind the bar. I looked up, and saw someone laying face down on the bar," he added.

Vance nodded, writing the information down. Looking up, he noticed Catherine and Warrick out of the corner of his eye, who then nodded a greeting to the detective. "Excuse me for a moment Sir," the detective said, clearing his throat and walking over to the two CSIs. "Catherine, Warrick," he said to them.

"Larry," Catherine said in reply. Lawrence Vance was not one of Catherine's favorite detectives. He was quick to judge, quick-tempered, and always in a rush to leave the scene of the crime. Catherine hated to work with the man, although she knew that she would have to make-do. "What's going on here?" she asked.

"Well, you're never going to believe this one," he said with a little laugh. "Notice anything… unusual?"

Both Warrick and Catherine surveyed the scene, taking in the milling customers, the art—or graffiti—on the walls, the empty beer bottles laying around, the nut shells on the ground, the hay strewn about, and the mechanical bull in the far back right hand corner. "Wait a minute, man," Warrick said, as he took a step closer to the mechanical bull. Scratching his head, he squinted in confusion.

"What, Rick?" Catherine asked, following his gaze. "Is that bull missing its—"

"Where's its head?" Warrick asked, finishing his colleague's sentence.

Vance just grinned at the two CSIs, trying to hold back his laughter. "You got it. The manager, a Mr. Jeffrey Rahl, was conducting the competition. He went to his office to take a phone call, came back to the competition, went to the bar to make sure that a customer was okay—turns out the customer was just very drunk,—and returned to the bull tournament only to find half of the bull missing."

"You've got to be kidding me," Catherine said with a sigh. _Of all the cases to draw, I had had to get this one_, she thought to herself.

"Manager wants the bull back," Vance continued, "And he is not happy."

"Fine. Has anyone left the Rocking Horse yet?" Catherine asked the detective.

"No, we were waiting on you two."

"Okay. Warrick, dust for prints. I'll comb the area for any other trace that might be left behind." With another sigh, Catherine and Warrick got to work.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	5. Excalibur: Part 2

**A/N: Odeepblu**e, thanks for your review…for all of your reviews, actually! **Kristafied**, keep the proofreading coming! I _hate _typos, and they annoy me! Thanks for the catch, though, and for your review, as well!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. Credit for Sara's past as a foster child goes to QuoththeRaven.

**Title: **_Excalibur: Part 2_

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"Can you tell us anything else about the body?" Sara asked David, before standing up again, smoothing out her CSI vest.

"I can tell you that the body has been moved," he said, pointing to marks along John Gead's torso. "I can also tell you that he fought back. Looks like there's trace under his fingernails. I'll know more once we post him," David added, looking up at Sara. "For now, the scene is all yours."

"Thank you, David," Sara replied, looking over at Greg and Nick. "Gentlemen, shall we get going?" she then asked. "I'll take pictures of the crime scene…"

"I'll fingerprint the people," Greg quickly added.

"Which leaves me the footprints," Nick replied. "Good deal," he said, as he got out the proper equipment.

Taking out her camera, Sara snapped a couple of pictures of the crowd of people sitting inside of the theater, before moving on to the backstage area of the show. This was the part that she most loved about a crime scene. She didn't mind talking to the people, but people lied. A lot. She wasn't always sure how to interrogate an individual without necessarily intimidating him or her, and at times, she hated to read between the lines, but… the evidence never lied. Instead of dealing with the drama that working with people created, she often times preferred the solitude of evidence collection. Alone with her thoughts, she was able to think through a crime, as if putting the pieces of a much larger puzzle together.

But that is what confused her. Clicking the shutter button on her camera, Sara brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Why did there have to be a puzzle for her to put together in the first place? Why did people hurt each other? She has seen it hundreds of times, and seeing it again only made her shiver.

"Are you cold, Sara?" Nick asked her from across the room.

"No, thank you," Sara replied with a smile. "Just thinking."

Nick nodded, and got back to work. Glancing around in front of her, Sara scanned the dirt. Noticing a partial footprint, she threw down a marker for Nick, and snapped a quick photograph. Then, moving on to the stall, she snapped pictures of the door frame, the blood, and anything else that looked as if it could be used as a weapon.

Once again alone again with her thoughts, Sara sighed. Sometimes, she absolutely hated her job. Being a CSI could be pretty upsetting, considering the fact that she quite frequently met people on the worst day of their lives. And if that was not bad enough, what—or who—did she have to come home to? Catherine had Lindsey, Warrick had his wife, and her? Nothing. No one. Leftovers in the refrigerator. An otherwise empty apartment. Sara oftentimes felt so alone, and that scared her.

"Hey, Nick?" she called over her shoulder to her colleague. "Finding anything?"

"Couple of footprints, blood spatter, some partial fingerprints, a couple of fibers. I'm just going to bag and tag," he added.

Sara nodded, before returning to the main area of the theater. "Greg, how's it going?" she asked the young CSI, carefully walking over to him. "I have ten more people to print, and I believe that Sofia is almost done interviewing everyone else. You?"

"About the same. Nick is busy collecting whatever is left in the back."

Greg nodded, getting back to work.

Before Sara could move away to find Sofia, however, her cell phone suddenly trilled. "Sidle," she mumbled into the speaker.

The voice on the other end of the phone was no-nonsense. "I'm pulling you off of your case. I need you here."

_Grissom._ "What for?" she asked him.

"I'll fill you in when you get here, but I have a kid that I would like you to speak with. Kids seem to like you," her boss added.

Sara sighed. "I'm on my way," she said, closing her phone. Sara wasn't sure how she felt about this. Grissom was right: she did seem to relate well to the children, but… they made her a little bit uncomfortable. They reminded her of her own past as a foster child, and that was something that she tried to avoid oh so carefully. Sara shivered again, before glancing at the crowd of people.

"Everything okay?" Nick asked, with Greg and Sofia also walking over to her.

"That was Grissom," Sara replied. "He pulled me off of this case. He says that he needs me over at the planetarium," she smiled, putting her equipment back into her kit.

"We're actually about done here," Nick informed her. "We'll drop you off at the planetarium, before heading back to the lab."

"I would appreciate that, thank you," Sara mumbled, collecting the rest of her things. "I guess there is never a dull moment in Vegas." With that, the trio of CSIs said goodbye to Sofia, before heading out.

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TO BE CONTINUED: 


	6. The Planetarium: Part 2

**Announcement: icklebitodd**, thanks for your comment on chapter five! I hope everyone likes chapter six!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And credit for Sara's fictitious past goes to QuoththeRaven. If you want to know more about her version of Sara's childhood, she is on my favorites list. The story you are looking for is the Life & Times of Sara Sidle.

**Title:** _The Planetarium: Part 2_

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Sara arrived at the Planetarium shortly after receiving the phone call from Grissom. Although she was not thrilled at the prospect of working on this particular case, she knew that she had a job to do, and that justice till needed to prevail.

"Hi Jim," she quietly said, walking up to the detective.

"Hello, Sara. Gil is over there," he replied, pointing in the general direction of the main entrance to the planetarium.

Sara nodded, walking into the building. "Grissom," she greeted her supervisor, looking over at him.

Grissom just nodded at her, before sighing. "Sara, I have a scared seven-year old boy who will not say a word to anyone," he immediately told her. "I don't know that he actually saw anything—the bullet appears to have come from the back of the theater—but he still will not utter a word. The paramedics haven't taken him to the hospital just yet, although they will be, fairly soon. I… need you to try to talk to him…" he informed her, trying to analyze her expression. Grissom understood that Sara had a difficult time with cases involving children, but… he also recognized the fact that for whatever reason, children tended to respond to her. And right now, they desperately needed to know exactly what this particular child saw—or did not see.

"Okay," was all that Sara mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, and glancing over at the young child. She noticed the blood on his hands, the blood on his clothes, and the blood in his hair. Then, she studied him more closely. He seemed so sad, and so alone, and so vulnerable. Sara slowly walked over to him, kneeling down in front of him. Clearing her throat, she quietly asked, "Mind if I sit down next to you?" No response. The boy continued to stare straight in front of him, neither flinching nor speaking. "Okay," Sara frowned, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back against the wall. Biting her lip, she stared at the water fountain on the opposite side of the lobby, as if engrossed by it. "I won't sit in the chair, that's okay. So… what's your name?" she quietly asked, tugging on a stray strand of her hair. When the child did not answer her, she merely said, "My name is Sara, and I'm with the crime lab. We're here to help, and to figure out what happened here…"

Again, the boy said nothing. Although Sara desperately wanted to get him to talk to her, she also knew that he was probably in shock, traumatized by the events of the evening. Sara knew how that felt, and she did not want to push him. Rather than forcing him to talk to her, she decided that her best course of action would be to sit there quietly, waiting for him to initiate contact… which hopefully he would do, given enough time.

And while Sara was busy saying nothing, her mind once again wandered. She hated working on cases that dealt with children. Whether they were the murderers or the innocent bystanders, it all boiled down to one thing: neglect. What caused a child to reach the point of no-return? Neglect, or abuse. Sara did not believe in the nature part of nurture versus nature, although she knew that genetics _did_ play a small role in an individual's disposition. More importantly than genes, however, Sara believed that the way in which a person was brought up made all of the difference in the world. Were the parents in the picture? If they were, did they spend any time with the child? If the parents were _not _in the picture, was the child in jail? Or foster care? Or on the streets?

And if the child was the victim, rather than the criminal, it still boiled down to neglect. How did adults manage to let children get hurt? Why weren't they always there to protect them? Why did they let bad people in the front door, or allow them to sit at the kitchen table? Why didn't they do anything to stop things from happening a second time? Or a third time? Or a fourth time?

Children were vulnerable, and Sara knew that. She hated working on cases involving youngsters, because they always made her think about...her own past. Grissom always told her that she was too emotional, but how could she _not _be? _I mean… a good scientist lets the material evidence do the talking, but a **great** scientist is also able to understand human nature_, Sara thought to herself, sighing. And that was the funny thing: Sara did not understand human nature very well, but… she could get inside the head of the victim. That, she could do very well.

Sara once again sighed, burying her head in her hands for a moment. Why did she always let herself think too much? That was why she spent so much time at the lab. Working so much left little time for self-reflection, and when you hated yourself, or your past made you sick to your stomach, not having to think about…things…was a blessing in disguise. Until, of course, one of _these _cases came along. _Thanks, Grissom,_ she thought to herself. _Thanks a lot._

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Sara wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees. Glancing over at the boy, Sara couldn't help but notice his blond hair and green eyes. She once knew a blond-haired, green-eyed boy. That boy had taken _her _innocence away, and had made her the victim—on more than one occasion. But this boy was younger, and didn't look strong enough to do…that… to anyone. Sara shuddered, suddenly cold. "Stop," she mumbled to herself. "Stop, stop, stop, before it's too late." Sara felt herself getting closer to the edge of thinking about things that she didn't want to think about. She subconsciously rubbed her wrists, feeling bruises that were no longer there, gone for decades. She subconsciously touched her face, remembering a beating that occurred over twenty years ago. And she closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

Lost in her own little world, still clutching her knees like a scared, twelve-year-old little girl, the scared, seven-year-old little boy reached out to her. "Patrick," was all that he said.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	7. The Rocking Horse: Part 2

**A/N: csialltheway** and **icklebitodd**, thanks for your reviews on chapter 6! Hope everyone likes seven!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title:** _The Rocking Horse: Part 2_

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"Oh, hell no!" Warrick mumbled, lifting his shoe up from the ground and looking at the sole of his right foot. "Oh, that is just _so _fantastic," he sighed, noting the crushed peanut shells, the straw, and his all-time favorite bar decoration, vomit, lining the creases of his brand-new shoe. "This is just great," he repeated, putting his foot back down. "Watch your step, Cath, and I _don't _just mean for the sake of the evidence," he told his colleague, cracking a slightly disgusted smile as he bent over to collect a sample of the still-wet liquid.

Catherine held back a laugh, noting the expression on Warrick's face. She was all too familiar with what happened when grown men—because it _had _to be grown men—could not hold their liquor. She could only imagine what riding a mechanical bull would do to someone who was already inebriated, and having a difficult time with balancing on both legs. Chuckling, she bent over, and resumed her search of the ground just under the mechanical bull.

Next to her, Warrick carefully but efficiently dusted the bull's exterior for prints, making sure to cover every inch for possible pieces of evidence. "Do you know how many people must use this thing a night?" he asked, shaking his head. "I bet at least dozens and dozens," he mused.

"Probably," his colleague replied. "But that's okay. You know, Rick," she said, "That bull's head couldn't have gone far. I mean, wouldn't you notice someone walking around town with a bull's head under one arm?"

Warrick grinned. "Well… this is Vegas," he replied, "Where anything goes. But still, someone must have seen something," he added, securing his most recent fingerprint findings. "And if they didn't, you're right. It still has to be in the area. Look, I'm going to print the people in the bar, and we'll let them get out of here. For now," he warned Catherine.

"Fine," she replied.

Walking over to a very busy Vance, Warrick listened in on the conversation.

"I went 1 minute and 37 seconds!" the man proudly announced to the detective. "I'm in the lead, too," he added.

"_Were_ in the lead," Vance corrected him. When the man looked slightly puzzled, Vance sighed. "The bull doesn't work right now. Can't finish the tournament. So did you see anything, Mr. Roost?" he then asked.

"No, Sir. After I finished, I heard a loud crash at the bar. I looked over, and saw someone with his head on the table. I rushed over to see if he was okay, and… that was it."

"I see," Vance frowned, biting his lip. Looking at Warrick, he added for the CSI's benefit, "That seems to be the gist of it. Those who were at the bull heard the noise at the bar, and walked over to see what was going on. So far, no one has seen anything."

"So can I go home?" Roost then asked the detective, looking hopeful.

"Not yet, Sir," Warrick interceded, before the detective could answer. "I need to get fingerprints from everyone here—strictly voluntary, of course—and a DNA swab," he added, remembering the wet vomit.

"But why? I didn't do anything," Roost frowned.

"This will be to clear you," Warrick replied, taking out the swabs and fingerprint kit. "If everyone will line up here," he announced, "I'll get you out of here as fast as I can," he added, raising his voice.

Before beginning his work, he looked over at Catherine, and laughed. Of all of the cases to draw, they had to get the one about a bull missing its head. _Well, I guess it could have been worse…_ he chuckled to himself. _The bull could have been missing… something else, instead!_

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	8. Excalibur: Part 3

**A/N: Solomynne, icklebitodd**, and **Gregsgirl4ever**, thanks for your reviews! And Solomynne, it's funny you should mention Joan. I _really _wanted to write an entire fic from her pov… that was my original goal, but then when I got to the end of the chapter, I was ready to do a "real" CSI story… I'm glad that you liked it! I almost got rid of that chapter, but… I sort of liked it, too! Anyhow, I hope everyone enjoys chapter eight!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title:** _Excalibur: Part 3_

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Back in the lab, Nick laid the medieval costumes face-up on the lay-out table, using plastic gloves to smooth out the wrinkles. Frowning, he looked them over. "People actually _chose _to wear this stuff?" he asked the empty room, noticing the long-sleeves, the hood made of chain mail, and the brightly colored vests. "This stuff couldn't actually be comfortable…" he mumbled, studying the outfits.

"They did indeed choose to wear the outfits," Sofia commented, accidentally scaring Nick as she walked into the room. "The design on the chest," she pointed to the fabric, "denoted a knight's family. You can see the family crest," she added, showing Nick the image on the fabric. "And each ruler typically wore the same color as his country's flag. The outfits showed importance, really. The more ornate the design," she shrugged, "The more important the person…"

"So if you were a servant," Nick asked, "You would wear… what?"

"White, usually, but something very plain, and not all that fancy," she told Nick, flashing him a slight smile.

"I see. Interesting… so, how do you know all about this stuff?" he asked her in his Texan drawl.

"I'm a fan of the time period," Sofia simply answered. "So about the interviews. No one saw anything, as we figured. But I would have to imagine that each of our knights would have a motive," she added.

Nick nodded his understanding. "Take out the King, and get promoted. Did any of the employees have a grudge against Mr. Gead?"

"No, they all say that he was the nicest guy in the world, and they don't understand why someone would want to hurt him. But, rumor has it that he was seeing someone from the show," Sofia added, raising an eyebrow.

"John Gead was dating a cast member?" Greg asked, entering the room.

"Yes indeed. A 'princess,' by the name of Susan Donald."

"Well, that would explain what I found in the back of the arena," Nick chimed in. Both Sofia and Greg looked at him, Greg smirking. "I found evidence of an…intimate encounter in the back of one of the stalls. Ran the swabs over to DNA, and am just waiting to hear back on the results. I also sent the blood swabs to DNA, and the fibers to trace. I was just about to check the uniforms for any evidence," he quickly added.

Greg nodded. "I processed the fingerprints from the remaining cast members, and everyone came up clean… except for one person: the Black Knight, Mr. Zack Fisher."

"What's his story?" Sofia asked.

"He was arrested in '92 and '97 for possession of an illegal substance, and in '00 for intent to sell."

"And what's more?" Greg asked with a grin, excitedly running a hand through his hair. "We have a match for his fingerprints on the door of the stall where Mr. Gead was found."

"Say no more, let's bring him in," Sofia said.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	9. The Planetarium: Part 3

**Announcement: icklebitodd** and **Gregsgirl4ever**, thanks for your reviews of chapter 8! Hopefully, everyone will find this chapter enjoyable!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And credit for Sara's fictitious past goes to QuoththeRaven. If you want to know more about her version of Sara's childhood, she is on my favorites list. The story that you are looking for is the "Life & Times of Sara Sidle."

**Title:** _The Planetarium: Part 3_

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"Patrick," Sara slowly repeated his name, mulling biting her lip. Turning to look up at him, Sara tried to figure out what to say next. 'Nice to meet you' didn't quite seem to work, nor did 'I'm sorry.' After Sara's mother killed her father, so many people said 'I'm sorry, Sara, I know what you must be going through...' But how the heck couldthey _possibly_ know what she was going through? How many people had one of their parents killed right in front of them, found themselves in foster care, and then were…assaulted… by their foster brother? Probably more than Sara could count on one hand, but that still did not make her feel any better at the time. No, 'sorry' would not cut it.

"Patrick," she repeated, "…are you…hurt…in any way?" she hesitantly asked, letting go of her knees, and slowly turning to once again kneel in front of the little boy.

Patrick looked down at his hands, as if noticing them for the first time. A single tear slid down his cheeks, followed by a second one, and then a third one, each tear leaving a tiny streak in the blood spatter on his face. Before Patrick could answer Sara, however, he quickly turned his head to the right side of the chair, and vomited. And that did it. As if a flood gate had completely opened, Patrick began to cry, his little body shaking from the force of his sobs.

Sara did the only thing that she could think of doing. Hesitating only for a moment, she sat down in the chair next to Patrick's, reached her arms out to him, drew him into her arms, and pulled him onto her lap. The criminalist in her was mindful of the fact that the young boy was covered in potential evidence, but the human in her realized that right now, he was also a little boy who was in crisis. "It's going to be okay," she whispered to him, holding his head close to her chest, and quietly rocking him back and forth. "It's going to be okay," she added, secretly wondering how it could ever really 'be okay' for him. Still gently rocking Patrick, Sara fought back the urge to shed her own tears. "Shh…shh…" she told him. _Why does any kid have to go through something so traumatic? It just…isn't fair… it just…isn't_, she thought to herself

Looking over Patrick's head, Sara noticed Grissom walking toward them. Before he got too far, however, she made eye contact with him, slowly shaking her head from side to side. "No," she mouthed. Grissom's eyes widened, as if asking her if she was really okay, but he backed off a little bit, watching the scene unfold from the opposite end of the planetarium's lobby.

Sara once again returned her attention to Patrick, gently running her fingers through his hair. "Patrick…" she hesitated, until she noticed him sucking his thumb and expectantly looking up at her. Thumb-sucking usually meant trauma, Sara realized…especially for a six or a seven year old. _He's… worse off than I originally thought that he was…_she thought to herself, sighing. "Patrick," she repeated, unsure of what to say next. "We need to get you to the hospital, okay?" Patrick's eyes seemed to widen in fear, as he sucked his thumb even harder. "It's okay, Sweetheart, it'll be okay," she quietly tried to assure him, gently brushing away the remnants of his tears. "But we have to make sure that you're okay..." _And get the evidence_, she thought to herself, glancing over at Grissom.

Patrick didn't say anything, but allowed Sara to stand up, still clinging to her neck. Grissom saw what Sara was trying to do, and motioned for a paramedic to bring a gurney over to her and Patrick. As soon as she tried to lay Patrick down on the gurney, however, he clung to her neck even harder. "Okay, it's okay," she quietly whispered to him. A little bit more loudly to the paramedic, and shifting her weight to one side, she said, "I've got him…" _I hope._

As Sara, Patrick, and the paramedic all walked over to the ambulance, Grissom softly called her name. "Are you going to be okay?" he mouthed to her. Sara merely nodded, getting into the ambulance. "I'll see you back at the lab," Grissom then told her, before the doors to the ambulance closed, effectively cutting off their silent communications.

As the ambulance pulled away from the planetarium, Grissom sighed, wondering whether or not he had made the right decision in bringing Sara into this situation. She was certainly more emotional than Catherine was when it came to children, and he only hoped that this particular case would not be the one to crack her already fragile shell.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	10. The Rocking Horse: Part 3

**A/N: **Joan, eh? Sure, why not! Maybe I'll have her appear in random chapters! Thanks for your comments, **icklebitodd** and **Solomynne**!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And credit for Sara's fictitious past goes to QuoththeRaven. If you want to know more about her version of Sara's childhood, she is on my favorites list. The story that you are looking for is the "Life & Times of Sara Sidle."

**Title:** _The Rocking Horse: Part 3_

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"Alrighty folks, we're done here," Warrick said, getting the last fingerprint sample stored safely in his kit. "You are free to leave," he added, glancing over at Catherine, who nodded her agreement. "We'll be in touch."

"So, what do you think?" Vance asked, rubbing a bald spot on his head.

"Honestly?" Catherine replied, a small grin forming on her face. "I don't want to speculate…yet."

Vance nodded, before heading toward the door. "See you two back at the lab," he said, "I have some people that I need to look in on."

Warrick and Catherine nodded their goodbyes, before cleaning up the rest of their gear. "You know, though, this is just bizarre..." he trailed off, frowning.

"No kidding," Catherine replied, smoothing out her shirt.

"The thing still has to be in the bar. Didn't Vance say that he combed the area?" Warrick asked, shaking his head. "As much as we laughed about a missing head before, I don't get it. It's not like it could have walked off by itself," he added, "And I don't think that there was enough time while everyone was distracted for it to completely disappear..."

"So it still must be here," Catherine finished his thought for him, glancing around the now almost empty bar. "But where, is the question. The head is about five feet by five feet, right?" she asked Warrick, looking around. "So it can't be shoved behind anything…we know that it isn't under a table…"

"And it has to be somewhere close by," Warrick indicated, "in order to account for the decreased amount of time to get it out of here..."

"Hey, Rick?" Catherine frowned, standing next to the mechanical bull. "Every bar has to have several emergency doors to get outside, right?" she asked him. Warrick simply nodded. "Well, where is the closest door to our bull?"

Warrick glanced around, noticing an emergency door half-way between the mechanical bull and the Rocking Horse's bathrooms. "I see what you're getting at," Warrick nodded, once again slipping on a pair of gloves. Walking over to the emergency door, he bent down to examine the handle. "Well, it appears to have been used lately," he mused.

"How do you know that?" Catherine asked, coming up beside him.

"Well," Warrick replied, still kneeling on the ground. "Take a look at this, Cath," he pointed to the door handle and the ground. "First of all, there are cobwebs all over the bar; the ceiling, the corners of the walls, the bathroom doors. But none on this door," he added. "Someone must have gone through it, and knocked the webs down."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, looking over at Warrick. "And the second reason?"

"Look at the peanut shells," Warrick simply said, taking out his camera. Snapping a few shots, he used a gloved finger to point out several of the shells. "Notice anything?" he asked his colleague.

Catherine squinted for a couple of seconds, trying to see what her partner was seeing. "No—Yes," she finally said. "There are a couple of larger, un-cracked shells here," she pointed to an area ten feet away from the door. "And then smaller, more cracked shells, as you get closer to the door."

Warrick nodded. "So the way I see it," he mused, "Someone stepped on the shells, and headed towards the door. The shells got stuck in the shoes—probably from all of the beer and other…fluids…on the floor—and got crushed. The more that the person walked," he shrugged, "the more shells fell out of the shoe."

"Yeah, but that doesn't really _prove_ anything," Catherine said. "Anyone could have left through that door," she indicated.

"True," Warrick replied. "But not everyone would have had a mixture of shells, straw, and vomit stuck to their shoes as they left," he added, recalling Catherine's attention to what they found around the bull. "Let me get a sample of the liquid around here," Warrick told Catherine, taking out a swab, "And if we're lucky, maybe a possible print out of this whole thing?"

Catherine reached into her kit, and drew out the materials necessary for finding prints on the door. "With any luck, the last person to use this door left a print—a print that should hopefully match the bull."

"You got it," Warrick smiled, finally standing up. "And we can lay this bull…case… to rest!"

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	11. Excalibur: Part 4

**A/N:** **icklebitodd**, hang in there… Sara's chapter is up next! (and then the planetarium case will appear more and more frequently after that, because I enjoy the Sara and Patrick relationship, too!).

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title:** _Excalibur: Part 4_

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"Hmm… did I hear someone mention something about an interrogation? I _love_ interrogations!" Joan grinned, as she carefully made her way across the lab's ceiling. "But I can't hear much from outside of the room," she mused, frowning, as she tried to maneuver her body closer to the door. Moments later, though, another smile appeared on Joan's lips, as she remembered her best friend, Sampson. Months before, Sampson had widened the crack which connected the hallway to the interview room, thus allowing Joan and all of her friends to have access to the actual interrogations. "Thank you!" she smiled, as she crawled right on through the crack, finally making herself comfortable in one of the far back-hand corners of the room. "Okay, Nicky, I'm here… you can begin, now!"

"I'm clean," Zack Fisher grumbled, staring first at Nick, then at Sofia, and then back at Nick again. "I didn't do anything wrong, I mean it!" Fisher added, staring at his hands.

_Don't listen to a word that that man says, Nicky_, Joan thought to herself.

Sofia and Nick glanced at each other, Nick raising an eyebrow. Promises from convicted felons did not mean very much to him, and he wasn't sure how much of this guy's story could actually be believed.

Sofia looked across the table at Fisher, speaking in a calm and commanding tone. "Mr. Fisher, maybe you can clear something up for us?" she asked him with a slight frown.

"Of course, anything," he quickly replied, shifting his eyes from the detective, to the CSI, and back to the detective again.

"We have evidence of your fingerprints, Sir, on the stall where Mr. Gead was found dead."

"We all have access to that stall," Fisher pointed out, anxiously running a hand through his hair. "We groom the horses before and after the shows, and put our own tack on the animals. I helped John get his horse ready a couple of nights ago," he added.

_Well, that certainly makes sense_, Nick thought to himself. _All employees would indeed have access to the entire backstage area, and it really would not be all that unusual for one person to help another person get set for the show._

Glancing over at Fisher, Nick frowned. Although he believed that it was possible that Fisher helped Gead prepare his hose, something still seemed funny to him. "Are you okay, Sir?" he finally asked, noticing the sweat drip from the man's hair to his eyes, and down to his nose.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Fisher mumbled, starting to fidget in his seat.

"You seem like you're… hiding something," Sofia chimed in, finally catching onto Nick's train of thought.

Before Nick or Sofia could probe any further, however, Greg softly knocked on the door, getting his colleague's attention. "I need to talk to you—now," he mouthed to Nick.

Joan looked down at Greg, interested in what he had to say. "What did you find, young grasshopper?" she whispered to herself.

"Excuse me," Nick quickly said, getting to his feet, and nodding toward Greg. Exiting the interrogation room, he sighed. "Tell me you have something for me, Greggo."

Greg ran an excited hand through his hair. "We got the DNA evidence back from the stall. It's a match for Susan Donald…and guess who else?" he asked.

"I'm guessing that it isn't the King…" Nick replied, puzzled. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be this excited…"

"You betcha!" Greg grinned. "It's not a match to the Gead! We have a match for Zack Fisher!"

"So, Fisher was trying to steal something other than the King's role," Nick mused, surprised.

Greg merely smiled, and walked away. Re-entering the interrogation room, Nick rested a hand on Sofia's arm, trying to tell her that he wanted to take over for a moment. Sofia immediately got the message, and let him take the lead. "Mr. Fisher," Nick hesitated, clearing his throat. "Sir, what is your…relationship…with Susan Donald?"

"What?" Fisher asked, mentally snapping to attention. "She's a… friend of mine."

"Sir, we have evidence of your…friendship… with Ms. Donald, found in the stall where Mr. Gead was murdered. Would you care to explain?"

Joan gasped. "Yeah, Mr. Gead… how are you going to explain that one?" she frowned, before her tiny face broke out into her version of a smile.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	12. The Planetarium: Part 4

**A/N:** Thanks for still reading, everyone!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title:** _The Planetarium: Part 4_

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"Are you okay, Ms. Sidle?" Jacob Rice, the EMT, suddenly asked her. "You look a little bit pale," he added, noting the color—or lack there of it—in her cheeks.

"I'm fine, thank you," Sara mumbled, trying to shift Patrick's weight on her lap. Even now, with the safety of the ambulance, the young boy still refused to let go of her.

"Are you sure?" he again questioned her.

Sara nodded, trying to smile. But she really didn't feel "fine," and she wasn't sure if she was going to be "fine" again for quite some time. Something about Patrick and his vulnerability made her think about her own vulnerability, and that left her with a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sighing, Sara leaned her head against the ambulance's side panel. Patrick just looked at her, sucking his thumb, and resting his head on her chest. "We'll be at the hospital soon," she told him, gently running her fingers through his hair. "Hang in there, okay…?" she whispered. Patrick listlessly stared at her, his thumb in his mouth.

Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived at the hospital, where an orderly met them all with a wheel chair. "Okay, Son," the man firmly said, reaching out with both arms in order to take Patrick from Sara.

"No, no, No, NO!" Patrick screamed, wrapping his legs tightly around Sara's waist as they exited the emergency vehicle. "NO, NO, NO, NO!" he repeated, beginning to get more and more hysterical. Before Sara or the orderly could stop him, Patrick reached up with both of his hands, and grabbed his hair, tugging on it in frustration and fear. "No, no, no," he sobbed, trying to yank out a fistful of his own hair. "No, no, no, no, no, no," he added, as hot, stinging tears slid down his face. "Nuh-uh, nuh-uh, nuh-uh!" he whispered to himself, over and over again. "I don't wanna!"

The orderly looked at Sara with a mixture of confusion and annoyance on his face. "But it's procedure, Ma'am!" he told her, again reaching out his arms for the young boy.

Sara threw the man a disgusted look, before trying to calm Patrick down. Sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, she tried to soothe him. "It's okay, Patrick. Shh, it's okay. You're safe here…" she whispered to him. "I know that you're scared, but it's safe here…"

"No, no, no," Patrick softly said, shaking his head back and forth. "Nuh-uh, nuh-uh," he added, still trying to pull his own hair out.

Sara reached up, and tenderly grabbed his tiny fists with her own palms. "Patrick, look at me," she calmly said to him. When he refused to let go of his hair, she added, "You're okay. I promise you that... but you need to sit in the chair." This time, Patrick let Sara gently open his fists, and he allowed her to place him in the wheelchair. "Look at me, Patrick…" When he did, she kneeled down next to him. "You're okay," she smiled. "Promise." Patrick just nodded, and let the orderly wheel him into a room.

After the doctor had checked Patrick out, and determined that he was unharmed, Sara knelt down next to his bed. Clearing her throat, she sighed. "Patrick…can you help me with something?" Patrick just gazed at her, looking quizzical. Gently taking his hands in her own, she pointed to her kit. "I'm a… scientist of sorts. I help figure out what happened in a place… like at the planetarium," she carefully told him. "And collecting things—like in a scavenger hunt—helps me make sure that the bad person goes to jail..." she trailed off. Patrick merely blinked. "So… can you help me collect some stuff?" she finally asked him.

Patrick slowly nodded. "Okay," Sara smiled, taking out some q-tips for a swab. "This won't hurt a bit," she added, making eye contact with the young boy. Patrick simply nodded again, as Sara took a sample of the blood. Then, just to cover her bases, she did a test for GSR. As expected, Patrick was clean for that. Last, but certainly not least, Sara took the spare clothes that the hospital gave her off of the shelf, and handed them to Patrick. "Patrick," she cautiously said. "I need you to change into these…" she whispered, pointing to the bathroom. "Go ahead, and I'll wait out here for you." When Patrick's eyes grew wide with fear, she flashed him a small smile. "I'm not going to move, I promise… I'll be standing right here, the moment that you get done."

Patrick nodded, before hesitantly moving toward the bathroom. Flicking the light on, and studying the empty room, he frowned, before walking inside. Locking the door behind him, Patrick tried to stop himself from crying, as he quickly changed into the spare clothes.

When Patrick re-appeared minutes later, Sara knelt down, and held her arms out to him. "Good job…" she smiled, as he ran over to her, throwing his tiny arms around her body.

At that moment, a tall figure briskly walked into the room. "Patrick?" the woman called out, raising her voice. "Patrick?" she repeated, rushing into the room. "I was so worried about you, sweetheart!" she added, finally seeing him with Sara, on the floor. Holding her arms out to him, she frowned.

Noticing the ring on the woman's finger, Sara asked, "Mrs. Sampson?" The woman nodded, still holding her arms out to her son. But Patrick refused to let go of Sara. "I'm… sorry to hear about your husband," she hesitantly said, trying to unobtrusively release Patrick's hold on her shoulders.

The woman shrugged, walking over to Sara, and grabbing one of her son's arms. "Well, I'm just glad that Patrick is okay," she replied, a little bit too loudly for Sara's taste.

"Ma'am, my name is Sara Sidle, and I'm with the crime lab. At some point, we are going to need to talk to you and your son."

"Well, I want to get my son home. Can this wait?"

"It would be better if we spoke rather immediately," Sara frowned, biting her lip. Glancing at Patrick, she was slightly dismayed—and surprised—to see him studying the floor, and still sucking his thumb.

"The in that case," Ms. Sampson sighed, "I will meet you back at your lab in a few hours…"

Sara nodded, as the woman took her son by the arm, and pulled him out of the hospital room. Patrick, remaining quiet, merely stared at Sara, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Perplexed, Sara watched the duo walk away. _What was that all about?_ She asked herself, collecting Patrick's soiled clothing from the bathroom floor. Something other than the…incident…at the planetarium was wrong with Patrick. That much was for sure.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	13. Interlude: Excalibur and the Planetarium

**A/N:** Ahh, fanfiction has been down for days! Sorry about the wait! **Solomynne **and **icklebitodd**, thanks for reading, though! I'm not giving any Patrick details away, but feel free to keep on guessing! **sweet-little-rose**, I am thrilled that you are enjoying this story! It was my very first fic… it's short, but… I love it! And **icklebitodd**, there is only one more chapter for Excalibur, and one more for the Rocking Horse… and then the rest are for the Planetarium!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. Credit for Sara's past goes to QTR.

**Title:** _Interlude: Excalibur and the Planetarium Cases_

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Sara entered the break room with a sigh, sitting down on the couch in the corner. This was not going very well. She felt confused, a little queasy, and unsure of how to even proceed. "Damn," she mumbled to herself, drawing her legs up to her chin. Patrick was really getting to her. There was something about working with children that really made her uncomfortable… they were so vulnerable, and they reminded her of when she herself was so vulnerable. Again, of her father. And of her foster brother. And of the court room. Working with children reminded her of how she felt when she couldn't stop the…incidents…from happening to her, and of how angry, hurt, and scared she felt.

"Hey, Sara," Nick greeted her, swinging his coffee mug back and forth as he entered the room. "What's up?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"The planetarium case that Grissom put me on is…thought-provoking," she finally said with a sigh, knocking herself out of her day dream. "I don't know," Sara sighed. "How about the victim in your own case?"

"Well, we've had a couple of lucky breaks," Nick smiled, sitting down in the chair closest to Sara's proximity. "Turns out that one member of the cast has a record. A prior for drug trafficking. And also, he and the dead guy were both sleeping with the same woman," Nick added, grinning at Sara.

"Well, that's always a recipe for disaster," Sara replied, finally cracking her own, very small smile. "So I'm guessing that Sofia is going to bring the girlfriend in for questioning?"

Nick nodded, taking a swig of the disgusting liquid that they all called coffee. "And she's going to re-interview the cast member with the record," he replied. "They should be here within the half hour. How's your case going?" he then asked.

"Okay," Sara replied.

Nick raised an eyebrow, studying Sara's face for a moment. "Just… 'okay?'" he probed.

Sara nodded. "Our case involves DB found at the planetarium. There was a seven-year-old boy with blood all over his hands, sitting next to the body. The boy is in complete shock, and hasn't said much of anything. The strange thing is," Sara continued, "His mother picked him up from the hospital a little while ago, and… he didn't seem to want to go with her," she frowned, biting her lip.

"And?" Nick asked. "You think there's more to it then that?"

Sara hesitated. "I don't know. It just seemed…unusual," she lamely finished, trying to smile. But unusual was not the word that she wanted to use. It was downright… abnormal, or so she thought. _Unless Patrick's life wasn't… great_, she thought to herself.

_Or am I just reading into it again?_ Sara really didn't know. She had a habit of thinking too hard, that much was true. But how could she not? All throughout elementary, middle, and high school, Sara had no one to talk to. Her classmates thought that she was just plain odd, and stayed away from her. Her teachers liked her well enough, but how much talking could she really do with them? And college? Well that was just a joke. She still felt like the odd-person out, and was left with nothing to do but think. Which brought her back to this case. Sighing, and once again absentmindedly rubbing her wrists, she was forced to think.

"Sara… are you… sure that you're okay?" Nick again asked his colleague, hesitant to actually pressure her into telling him anything. For all intents and purposes, Sara was someone that he cared about… as a friend, of course. He hated to see her so out of it. "You seem very..."

"Yeah, I'm fine, I think I'm just tired," Sara interrupted Nick, gently rubbing her forehead. She knew that he was only trying to help her, but she wasn't in the mood to share her thoughts with him right now. In any event, when most people really got to know her, they typically let her down somehow. It was only a matter of time… and she didn't want to give Nick that kind of time. "Talking to Patrick is just… draining," she finally admitted.

"But I thought that you said that he wasn't talking…?" Nick asked, kicking Sara's legs aside so that he could rest his own legs on the couch.

Sara laughed at Nick. "Well that's the funny thing," she mused. "He seems to respond to me… a little bit, anyhow. I couldn't get him to leave my side," she added. "And he wouldn't stop sucking his thumb." Sara remained silent for a moment, thinking. Almost forgetting that Nick was in the room, she muttered, "But something just isn't right. It just isn't..."

Nick leaned toward Sara, resting his arms on his knees. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just the way that he behaved when his mother arrived. Most kids would run right toward their mother, but Patrick… he refused to let go of me." Sara frowned. "And she basically had to drag him away from the hospital room..."

"Could it be from the trauma from the night? I would have to imagine that what happened would be weighing heavily on his mind…" Nick trailed off.

"I know," Sara again sighed. "But…still. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens." Sara resisted the urge to tell Nick everything that was on her mind. She felt so unhappy, and so unsure of herself. In fact, Sara felt that if she didn't talk to someone soon, she wouldn't be able to cope with everything. And that scared her. That scared her a lot. "Hey, could luck with your interviews," she finally mumbled, standing up and stretching. "I need to go update Grissom," she told Nick with a smile.

"Yeah, you, too, Sara! Good luck!" Nick replied, biting his lip as he watched her leave.

_If only you two would just talk to each other…_ Joan sighed. _Friends can move mountains, I always say… but Sara, you just don't know how to trust._

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	14. The Rocking Horse: The Conclusion

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and enjoy! (yes, it's another short one, but… ya know!)

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.

**Title:** _The Rocking Horse: The Conclusion_

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"So let me play it for you," Warrick said to Catherine, grabbing them both a cup of coffee from the break room's coffee pot. "Are you ready?" he asked, sitting down at the table, and leaning back in his chair.

_I am! _Joan eagerly told him, staring down at Catherine and Warrick from her corner perch.

"I'm all ears," Catherine raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of the semi-warm, semi-putrid liquid.

_Me, too!_ Joan wanted to shout. _Well… except for the fact that I don't really have ears. Hmm. And how can anyone even be 'all ears?' What a stupid phrase!_ she thought to herself.

Warrick glanced across the table at Catherine, drumming his fingers on his coffee cup. "Okay, here goes!" he told her, beginning his narrative.

"_Samuel Whitaker is a Sophomore computer science major at UNLV. He is shy, quiet, and reserved, and his parents have basically ordered him to 'get out there' and experience the world. Samuel, never one to disobey an order from his parents, decides to pledge a fraternity on campus. What better way to meet people, he figures, than to join a social organization. And besides, his father also pledged a fraternity, when he attended UNLV._

"_So Samuel does it. He signs up during Rush week, and is given weekly tasks that he must complete. If he fails to complete one task, he is kicked out of the pledge class. Everything goes well, until Samuel receives this week's challenge: steal a unique mascot, from a local bar: the mechanical bull at the Rocking Horse._

"_All week long, Samuel thinks about his task. How does one go about stealing something so large, from such a heavily populated business establishment? With a diversion, of course, Samuel thinks to himself, as he enlists the aide of two members of his pledge class. Signing up for the bull riding competition, Samuel positions his pledge brothers in two separate locations around the Rocking Horse: one of them near the pay phone, and the other at the bar._

"_The plan? The pledge brother by the phone is told to make a call to get the manager away from the competition. During that time, Samuel loosens the bull's head from the body. Pledge brother number two is told to play sick, as soon as he sees the manager return to the competition. _

"_And that is exactly what happens. When everyone turns to see if the sick guy is okay, Samuel rips the head off of the bull, and heads for the nearest door. He hides the bull in the alley, with the intention of coming back for it later!" _Warrick concluded his summary.

"And I have the evidence to prove it," he then added with a grin, showing Catherine the fingerprint results from the bull and the door, the DNA results from the vomit, and the connection between the sick guy at the bar and Samuel Whitaker.

"So we only have one more issue, then," Catherine mused. "Where's the bull's head now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It was in the fraternity house," he grinned. "When Brass brought Samuel in, he caved… in under five minutes. It would seem as if Samuel isn't all that cut out to be a criminal…"

"So did he get into the fraternity?" Catherine chuckled, sipping her coffee.

"Uh…when the brothers found out that he turned them in, he was kicked out of the class. For good."

"Well, nicely done, Warrick," Catherine told him, stretching. "Then I guess that means that for us, our night is over. How about I treat you to some breakfast?" she suggested with a smile. "After all, Sherlock, it was your investigation of the peanut shells that got this case solved!"

"Deal!" Warrick smiled at Catherine.

_Bravo! One down, two more to go_... _I wonder how the Excalibur case is going? _Joan thought to herself, crawling out of the break room, in order to locate Nick, Greg, or Sofia.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	15. Excalibur: The Conclusion

**A/N: **Thanks, as always, for your comment on the previous chapter, **icklebitodd**! After this chapter, it's Sara and Patrick, all the way!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, I really love Excalibur (the hotel). I think that that's why I used it!

**Title:** _Excalibur: The Conclusion_

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**Interview Room A**

Joan quietly crawled into Interview Room A, so as not to disturb anyone, waiting for the discussion between Zach Fisher, Sofia Curtis, and Nick Stokes, to actually begin. She was thrilled, moments later, as her human acquaintances all filed into the room.

Once Fisher was seated at the table, Sofia sat down across him, with Nick standing in the corner. "Again, do you care to explain your relationship with Susan Donald?" she immediately asked the suspect.

"We're friends," Fisher again repeated.

"Do you take all of your friends to the stalls where your other friends keep their horses?" Nick asked from the sidelines. "Because we found evidence of you and Ms. Donald in John Gead's horse's stall. Care to explain that?" he asked.

Zach ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Susan and I were having an affair," he finally admitted. "She had been seeing John for months, but… I guess that things just weren't going so well between the two of them…" he trailed off.

"How so?" Sofia asked.

Fisher shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't know how to treat her like a princess, I guess. Yelled at her a lot, didn't take her anywhere nice, didn't give her what she needed."

"And… you were able to… give her what she needed?" Nick stood, arms across his chest, eyeing Fisher.

"Well… yeah…" he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, and slightly smiling. "You could say that. A little bit of this, a little bit of that… it didn't take much to make her… sing... if ya know what I mean!"

Nick frowned, looking over at Sofia. Sofia had a disgusted look on her face. "And so you killed John, to officially take his place with Susan?"

"NO!" Fisher shouted, holding his arms up in the universal sign of surrender. "No! I mean, I _do_ love her, and I _do_ want to be with her… but… I told her that we couldn't be together, until she broke it off with John! If she killed him, well… that's on her head," he informed Nick and Sofia, leaning back in his chair.

"So… _she_ was the one who killed him, just to be clear?" Sofia questioned him.

"I didn't _say_ that," he angrily mumbled. "I just said that_ I_ didn't, and if _she_ did, then it's _her_ fault… not mine."

"We'll be back, Mr. Fisher," Sofia told him, leaving the room, with Nick trailing along behind her.

"What do you think?" Nick asked Sofia, once they were both out in the hallway.

"I'm not sure yet… let's talk to Susan Donald, and see what she has to say," Sofia shrugged, walking into the interrogation room just next door.

---------------

**Interview Room B**

"Hello, Ms. Donald," Sofia greeted the other woman with a small smile. "I'm Detective Curtis, and this is CSI Stokes. We have some questions for you about your boyfriend."

"My… boyfriend?" Susan asked. "I don't know what happened to John… really…"

Nick nodded. "That might be, Ma'am, but we just want to figure out the timeline."

"Okay," Susan quietly replied.

"So just before the show," Sofia began again, "You were…?"

"Getting dressed and set to go. My make-up takes a little while to put on," she explained. "So I usually get to the arena maybe two and a half hours ahead of go-time?"

"Can anyone corroborate your story?" Sofia asked.

"Well…" Susan hesitated. "I wasn't really alone on this particular night…"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "And who were you with, Ma'am?"

"Zach Fisher. We were having an affair," she bit her lip, looking down at her nails.

Sofia glanced over at Nick for a moment. "And you were with him just before the show began?"

"Uh-huh. We decided to… well… you know," she winked. "In one of the stall's. John's stall, as a matter of fact."

Nick ran a hand through his hair. "Uh… Ma'am," he cleared his throat. "About what time was this?" he asked.

"About two hours and 15 minutes before the show was scheduled to start. And no, Johnny wasn't around at the time," she added with a smile.

_So about a half hour before Gead was found dead_, Sofia thought to herself.

"Ma'am," Nick tried again. "You were seeing both men? At the same time…?"

"Well, technically," Susan shrugged. "But I told Zach that I would only be with him, if he took care of Johnny."

Nick frowned. But _Zach said that he told Susan to break it off. Someone is definitely lying here._ "Are you sure about that, Ma'am?" he politely asked. "Because Zach Fisher is saying that he told you to talk to John."

"No… I definitely told him to go fight it out over me," Susan chuckled. "I like it when men fight over me," she added.

_Uh-huh. What was this, a playground brawl? _Nick thought to himself. "And did they, Ma'am? Fight it out over you?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask Zach that," Susan again shrugged, once again looking at her nails.

"Thank you. We'll be back shortly," Sofia muttered, getting out of her chair and exiting the room.

_Okay, I'm here! You can start now! _Joan announced to the room full of… well, no one. _Huh? Where did everyone go…? _she sighed, glancing out into the hallway. "_Nicky? Sofia? What's going on?" _she muttered, turning around, and heading out into the hallway.

"You've got to be kidding me," Nick sighed, following Sofia out into the hall. "She told them to actually fight over her?" he asked, an incredulous expression on his face. "This isn't _actually_ the Middle Ages," he frowned.

"So let's go talk to Zach Fisher again," Sofia simply commented, once again walking into Fisher's interrogation room.

"_HEY! WAIT FOR ME!" _Joan yelled.

---------------

**Interview Room A**

"Mr. Fisher, I need some help," Nick told the other man, sitting down next to Sofia. "Sir, we just finished speaking with Susan, and—"

"Wait, she's here?" Zach asked, perking up. "Did she say anything about me?" he eagerly asked the detective and the CSI.

"Yes, Sir. What were you doing just before the show started?" Nick asked, ignoring his implied question of, 'what did she actually say?'

"Susan."

"You were… doing Susan?" he repeated, a little bit uncomfortable. "Okay. About when was that, Sir?"

"Maybe two hours before the show was scheduled to start?" he replied, shrugging.

Nick nodded.

"And what happened after that?" Sofia then asked.

"Well… that's when we had the relationship conversation. I told her to go break it off with John."

"That's not what she's telling us, Sir," Sofia informed him. "She's telling us that she told you to go fight over her."

Zach sighed, staring down at the table. "It might have gone down like she says," he frowned.

"And what did you interpret her words to actually mean?" Sofia asked him.

"Look. I just went to talk to the man, okay? I told him how it was, that I was in love with Susan, and that she was in love with me. He took a swing at me, and I swung back. That's all," Zach said. "I swear."

Nick nodded, it all becoming clear to him. "Thank you, Mr. Fisher," he told the man, pushing back his chair and leaving the room.

"What is it, Nick?" Sofia asked, following him. "Aren't we cutting the interview a little bit short…?"

"No," he shook his head. "Because I know exactly what happened," he told her.

"I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!" Greg shouted, rushing up to his colleagues just at that moment.

"Go ahead, man," Nick chuckled. "Lay it out for us."

"Okay," Greg grinned. "It goes a little something like this:

"_John Gead is the King in one of the most well-known dinner shows in Las Vegas. He loves his job. He gets to take a queen during every single show, and he gets to play boss to a room full of knights and princesses. What better job can there be?_

"_Besides that, the woman whom he loves has a role in the show. Susan Donald. The woman whom he someday wants to marry… if she'll have him. Susan is a wild woman. She likes to do it in dangerous places—especially where there is the risk of people catching her in the act—and she is the perfect yin to John's yang._

"_Until, that is, Zach Fisher enters the picture. Zach is a wild man himself, having done time for drug trafficking. He is boisterous, he is outgoing, and over time, he falls head over heels in love with Susan. _

"_Susan, aware of her situation, gives Zach an ultimatum. Take care of John, and he can have her all to himself. Zach agrees, and goes to 'talk' to the other man. He explains that he is in love with Susan, and that Susan is in love with him; that John needs to leave the picture._

"_They argue back and forth, their words becoming more heated. John picks up a stray post, and tries to hit Zach with it, who parlays the blow, only to connect his own fist with John's temple. The two men continue to fight, until John's head hits the wall of the stall. He bleeds out, and dies."_

Nick grinned at his younger colleague. "And you know this how, Greg?" he asked.

Greg simply smiled, fanning the fingerprint and blood DNA results, in addition to pictures of the stall itself, and the results from trace evidence. "Let's just say that I created a timeline, and that there is no doubt in my mind as to what happened," he concluded, grinning. "After all, the evidence never lies," he added.

_Okay, I'm ready! _Joan grinned, nearing Interview Room A. _Wait a minute… why is _

_everyone standing out in the hallway…? Did you… solve the case already? Tell me that you didn't solve the case…_

"So this had nothing to do with drugs?" Sofia asked, puzzled, sure that the prior record was going to come into play somehow.

"Nope," Greg replied. "It was all for the love of a woman," he told Sofia, as Nick slapped him on the back.

_You… solved the case without me…? Thanks… so kind of you! Nice job, but next time, wait for me! I mean it! Don't make me bite you! A__nd just in case you're thinking that I won't do it, I will... don't test me! _she added. _"I mean business, buddies..."_

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	16. The Planetarium: Part 5

**A/N: unspoken-dream **and **icklebitodd**, thank you so much for your comments! I hope you like this chapter!

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. For more detail on Matthew and Sara's life in foster care, check out QuoththeRaven's "The Life & Times of Sara Sidle." With her permission, I have begun to incorporate her interpretation of Sara's childhood into most of my stories.

**Title:** _The Planetarium: Part 5_

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_Hey, Sara! _Joan thought, watching the other woman outside of Grissom's office. _What's up? Ready to solve the case…?_

Sara stood just outside of Grissom's door, hesitating. Why was she so nervous? Was she afraid that her supervisor would read something on her face, that she didn't want read? No, that couldn't be it, because Grissom was oblivious to everything except for his precious insects. "I'm afraid to move this case forward," Sara mumbled to herself. "Afraid of what I'll find…" she trailed off, confused, and still staring at Grissom's closed door.

"Hey, Sara," Catherine said with a smile, slowing her pace down as she came upon her colleague.

"Oh, hi, Catherine," Sara muttered, turning around to look at Cath. "How'd your case turn out?" she asked her friend. "It was at the Rocking Horse, right?" she asked.

Catherine nodded, grinning. "Some college pledges ended up trying to steal the mechanical bull's head for a pledge task. They're in booking now," she added. "Hey… Sara? Are you…okay?" she cautiously asked, eyeing her friend closely. Somewhere along the way, the relationship between the two women had grown into a fairly decent friendship: a step up, from their first antagonistic year with one another.

"I'm fine," Sara immediately snapped, her smile disappearing and a scowl appearing on her face. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she grumbled, as she finally knocked on Grissom's door and stormed in, leaving a stunned Catherine all alone out in the hallway.

Catherine watched Grissom's door slam shut behind Sara, concerned over whatever it was that her friend was going through. Shaking her head, she walked off, vowing to catch up with the younger woman later on.

Inside of Grissom's office, Sara waited for her boss to make eye contact with her. "Sara," he finally acknowledged her, clearing his throat. "Please, have a seat." Sara sat down, as Grissom removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have you been able to get any information out of Patrick?" he asked.

Sara frowned. "Patrick is a little boy, Grissom. A scared, little boy. With feelings, and emotions, unlike yourself," she blurted out, regretting the words the moment that they were out of her mouth. _Shit,_ she thought to herself. _Shit, shit, shit._

Grissom frowned at Sara, setting his glasses down on the desk in front of him. Sara just confirmed that he had indeed made a mistake in bringing her in on this case. He had hoped that she would be able to reach out to Patrick, but instead, it looked as if Patrick had reached out to her. "Sara…" he began.

"Grissom," she interrupted him. "Look. I'm sorry. I'm just…" she shrugged. "I tried to speak with Patrick, but I haven't been able to get all that much out of him. All of the blood on his clothing belongs to his father, and as we suspected, he did not fire the gun. Other then that, I can't tell you much… aside from the fact that something else is wrong."

"What do you mean, Sara?" Grissom asked, folding his hands. "You found some additional evidence?"

"Not exactly…" Sara trailed off, looking down at the floor for a moment. "Look. I know how you feel about intuition, but… something isn't right between Patrick and his mother."

Grissom sighed, leaning forward. "Go ahead."

"Well, you saw how he was with me at the Planetarium, right? He wouldn't let go of me, like he was terrified of everyone and everything around him?"

"Yes?"

"Well that continued even at the hospital. He wouldn't leave my side… even when his mother showed up…"

Grissom bit his lip. That was a little strange. Even in the case of extreme trauma, the boy should have responded to his mother.

"What did Patrick do, Sara? When he saw his mother?"

"He sucked his thumb, and refused to leave my side… then Mrs. Sampson came over, and led him away…" she shrugged.

"Interesting," Grissom said. "Well, Brass did a check on the family. Sam Sampson was a stockbroker originally from Minnesota," he said, "And was married to a Lynette Wycos, from Reno. Lynette—Mrs. Sampson—gave birth to Patrick on October 2, 1999. So he is almost seven years old now."

Sara nodded. "Any prior records?" she asked.

"Not on MR. Sampson," Grissom informed her. "But MRS. Sampson has a record for spousal abuse."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Grissom, we have to get him out of there, then," she anxiously told her supervisor.

Grissom shrugged. "We can't do anything, until we process the scene, Sara. You know that," he calmly replied, putting his glasses back on.

Sara glared at Grissom, upset, frustrated, and even a little bit annoyed. It was just like him to sit back and let an innocent child get hurt. It was just like _all _adults to sit back and let an innocent child get hurt. To let _her_ get hurt. Like when her foster brother, Matthew, raped her, and no adult stood up to help her. Like when they allowed it to happen a second time, and then forced her to face him in a trial. Sara bit her lip, though, sighing, knowing that in actuality, Grissom would never let a child get hurt.

Grissom looked over at Sara, concerned at what he was seeing. What was going on in her mind? "Sara…" he trailed off.

Sara looked up at him, and her features immediately softened. She wasn't being very fair to him. He had nothing to do with her rape, and even now, with Patrick, his hands were tied. She knew that he had to follow procedure—that they all had to follow procedure—in order to protect the child.

"Sara… I'm sorry…" Grissom tried again, unsure of what else to say to her. She looked so angry, and so helpless, and so hurt.

And that did it. All of Sara's anger suddenly ebbed away, as the tears started to well up in her eyes. Embarrassed and ashamed, Sara tried to burry her head in her hands. She couldn't believe that she was crying… and in front of Grissom, too, no less. But before Grissom could do or say anything else in order to try to comfort her, Sara bolted out of his office, unsure of where she was going, or what she was going to do.

"Sara! Wait a minute!" Grissom called after her. But Sara did not stop.

_Sara…? _Joan frowned.

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	17. The Planetarium: Part 6

**A/N: unspoken-dream **and **icklebitodd**, thank you so much for your comments! I hope you like this chapter! And hmm… I'm thinking of changing the title of this story back to what it originally was ("The View From Above"). I got rid of the first title, when only one chapter mentioned Joan. Now it kind of fits again!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. For more detail on Matthew and Sara's life in foster care, check out QuoththeRaven's "The Life & Times of Sara Sidle." With her permission, I have begun to incorporate her interpretation of Sara's childhood into most of my stories.

**Title:** _The Planetarium: Part 6_

---------------

Sofia, her head buried in a report, barely noticed Sara as she ran past her. If it hadn't been for the loud sobs emanating from the other woman, Sofia probably wouldn't have even noticed her at all. "Sara…?" the criminalist turned detective asked. But Sara ignored her, continuing her path down the hallway. Sofia turned around, taking a step toward where Sara had just disappeared, but stopped herself. Although she and Sara were currently getting along, they still were not the best of friends. Sara seemed to need someone to talk to, and Sofia realized that she was probably not that person.

Heading toward the break room, Sofia smiled, as she saw Nick and Catherine sitting at the table, drinking coffee. "Hey," she said to them, putting her file down. "Sara just ran that way," she pointed down the hallway, "And I think that she really needs a friend right about now. One of you should probably go after her."

"What happened?" Nick asked, setting his cup aside.

Sofia shrugged. "I don't know. She just ran past me, and she was crying."

Catherine sighed, setting her own cup aside. "She seemed upset before, too," she told her colleagues. "I wonder what's going on…"

"It's got to be the case that she's working on," Nick replied. "The one with the kid. I don't know, though," he frowned, pushing his chair back, and standing up. "But maybe I should go and see her?"

"You can try," Catherine told him. "But I asked her how she was doing before, and she didn't seem as if she wanted to talk about it…"

Nick nodded, heading toward the door. "Well, I'll give it a try. Thanks, Sofia," he said to the detective, as he began his search of the lab for Sara.

---------------

After leaving Grissom's office, Sara took off down the hallway, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was so embarrassed that she had allowed her boss to see her cry, and she was mortified that she was running around the lab in such a distressed state. _What if someone sees me? _she thought to herself, as she looked for a semi-private place to collect herself. So distraught, Sara didn't even notice Sofia as she ran past her in the hallway. She didn't hear her name being called out, as she just kept on going.

"_Sara, stop!" _Joan tried to shout out. But Sara was just too fast, and… Joan's voice was just too quiet.

Making a right at the nearest hallway junction, Sara sighed, as she made her way to one of the back science labs. Noting the broken car in the middle of the room, she again sighed, leaning against the furthest corner. Sliding down to the ground, Sara pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head on her knees. What was going on with her? Why was Patrick affecting her so badly? Was it because he was such a young kid, and almost alone in the world? Was it because his father was dead, and that he did not seem to trust his mother?

Sara felt so unsure of herself… after her mother had killed her father, and she had been forced to enter foster care, her entire life had changed. Not only had she been known as the girl whose mother killed her father, but she became known as the girl who was raped by her own foster brother; a lot to deal with, for such a young kid. A lot for _anyone_ to deal with, for that matter.

Lost in her own thoughts, Sara didn't hear anyone else enter the lab, until Nick was standing just in front of her. "Sara?" he quietly asked, kneeling down in front of her. "Are you… okay?" he murmured.

Sara just stared at him. Did it look like she was okay?

"I heard that you came this way…" he tried again. Actually, it took a small bit of detective work on his part to retrace Sara's steps. Luckily enough for him, though, a couple of people saw her run past them. "And… I heard that you looked upset…"

Sara turned a tear-stained face to him, and cracked a small smile. "I'm okay…"

"No you aren't," Nick countered, finally sitting Indian-style on the ground, just in front of her. Leaning his elbow on his knees, he said, "You look like something's bugging you. So… what's going on?" he asked her.

Sara sighed. "I don't know, Nick. Patrick is just… he reminds me of… me…"

Nick didn't say anything, keeping his gaze on Sara.

Sara really didn't want to get into her past with Nick, but… he wouldn't leave her alone, and… "When I was younger, well… I didn't have the best childhood," she finally admitted. "My father was a bit of a drunk, and my mother… didn't do anything to… protect me…"

"From your father?" Nick cautiously probed.

Sara just nodded. "He used to come home and beat my mother… or me… or both of us… and he used to… touch me… until…"

Nick reached a hand out to Sara, gently placing it on her knee. Moving closer to her, he locked eyes with her, telling her that he was still listening.

"Until… she killed him one night." Inwardly, Nick was shocked. Outwardly, he remained calm and still. "She killed him, and I was taken into foster care… while I was living with my foster parents, my foster brother… raped me… twice," she finally whispered, the tears beginning to fall again.

"Oh, Sar," Nick mumbled, as he leaned over to take her in his arms. "I'm so sorry…" he told her, moving to sit next to her so that he could hold her more easily. Sara let herself be held, as she pressed her head against Nick's neck, crying. "I had no idea…" he said.

While she cried, Nick continued to gently hold Sara in his arms, soothingly running his fingers through her hair… much like she had held Patrick while _he _had cried. Sara was still embarrassed that she was reacting like this in front of her friend and colleague, but… she felt totally safe and secure in Nick's arms, which only made her want to cry even more; which she did, until she had no more tears to cry.

"So…" Nick finally said, smoothing back her hair. "Patrick's situation is making you remember your own…" Sara nodded. "Then you have to finish this case, Sara. You need to give him closure… so that he can move forward…" _And so can you…_

Sara nodded again. "I know," she sighed. "He should be here any moment with his mother… I think I'm going to stay out of the interview room, but… I want to see it…" she admitted, pulling out of Nick's arms. Then, "Thank you. I'm sorry that you had to see that, but thank you…"

Nick flashed Sara a small smile, before saying, "It wasn't a problem…Anytime. And… we'll talk later, okay? Once your case is over with?"

Sara nodded, before leaving to find Brass and Grissom.

_Nice job, Nick! _Joan thought to herself, standing just inside of the room. _I couldn't have done it any better myself!_

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	18. The Planetarium: Part 7

**A/N: unspokendream **and **icklebitodd**, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

---------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. For more detail on Matthew and Sara's life in foster care, check out QuoththeRaven's "The Life & Times of Sara Sidle." With her permission, I have begun to incorporate her interpretation of Sara's childhood into most of my stories.

**Title:** _The Planetarium: Part 7_

---------------

"I don't know, Gil," Brass told his friend. "But if she reacted the way that you just described, I don't think that she should be allowed anywhere near this interview," he commented.

Grissom just nodded. He knew that Brass was right, and that Sara was on the verge of losing her professionalism. If she sat in on the interview, and interrupted because she felt upset, she was endangering the case. And neither Brass nor Grissom wanted that to happen.

As they were talking, Sara, her eyes still red and puffy from crying, rounded the corner. "Before you say anything," she told the two men, holding her hands up in the sign of surrender, "I don't want to sit in on the interview. I just want to watch from outside. If that's okay…" she trailed off.

Grissom threw Brass a look, but let him make the call. "Alright," Jim finally said. "But Sara, make sure you stay outside. Understood?" Sara nodded, as she saw Patrick and Lynette Sampson being led into one of the rooms. Patrick, walking at his mother's side, had his head down, his arms held firmly against his side. He definitely didn't look happy. "Sara, understood?" Brass repeated, noting her expression.

"Yes, I understand," Sara mumbled, as she walked over to observation room. Standing behind the one-way mirror, she sighed, as her supervisor and colleague entered the actual room. It was too bad that they hadn't sent Catherine in there rather than Grissom, because Patrick looked terrified… and Grissom wasn't the best person when it came to dealing with children. Neither was Brass, for that matter. Or sometimes, even Sara.

"Mrs. Sampson, thank you for bringing Patrick back here," Grissom began. "Hi, Patrick," he then said. Patrick didn't say anything… he just sucked his thumb, and stared at the floor.

"Yes, well, I don't know what he'll be able to tell you," Mrs. Sampson muttered. "He's been like this ever since… ever since his father…" she trailed off, taking a tissue from her purse and dabbing her eyes with it. "Well… you know."

Brass nodded. "But anything that he can tell us might shed some light on the situation."

"Patrick," Grissom tried again. "How is it that you decided to go to the planetarium on this particular day?" he asked. Sara just rolled her eyes. This was going to be great, she thought, as Patrick ignored him. "I mean… was it your idea? Or your father's? Was it a father-son day?"

This was getting them nowhere. Looking at Brass, Grissom sighed. Maybe they needed Sara, after all? But would she be able to handle an interrogation, after everything that had been going on? "Please, excuse me for a moment," he said, standing up, and leaving the room. Standing just beside Sara, he asked, "What do you think?"

"I think that… something is still going on with him," Sara admitted. "And…no offense, but I don't think that you or Brass will be able to get through to him…"

"I agree, Sara. We need you. But," he added, raising a finger in the air. "Do you think that you'll be okay going in there?" he asked, partially concerned for Sara's feelings, and partially concerned for the case itself.

Sara just nodded, as she followed her boss back into the room. "Mrs. Sampson?" Sara asked. "We met at the hospital earlier today," she said with a small smile. "How are you holding up?" she asked the woman, glancing over at Patrick, who was now intently watching Sara.

"We're… hanging in there," Mrs. Sampson replied. "My poor Patrick is upset, understandably, but…" she reached a hand over, and tried to ruffle her son's hair. Patrick, however, recoiled at her touch.

"Well, would you mind if I asked Patrick a couple of questions?" Sara quietly asked, once again noticing Patrick's reaction to his mother. His mother shook her head no, that she did not mind.

"Okay. Patrick, remember me?" Sara asked him with a smile, resting her hands in the middle of the table. Patrick slowly nodded his head up and down, still sucking his thumb. "Remember how you helped me in the hospital?" she then asked. "To start putting the puzzle together?" Patrick again nodded, as Grissom threw Brass a look. This was encouraging. At least he was responding to her questions. "Well… I need a little bit more help," she told him. "So that we can find the rest of the puzzle pieces, to figure out what happened to your father… okay?"

"Ye-yes…" Patrick said, momentarily taking his thumb out of his mouth.

"Good…" Sara told him, flashing him another small smile. "Okay. So… was today supposed to be a special day with your father, honey?"

Patrick nodded. "We…we go out once a week. Just the two of us…to breakfast or lunch, and somewhere special."

Sara smiled. "That sounds nice… where'd you go last weekend?"

"The museum," Patrick immediately told her. "I like the Sesame Street exhibit there."

"Me too," Sara grinned. Putting her hand over her mouth, she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "But don't tell anyone that I like Sesame Street, okay? Or they'll tease me," she explained. Patrick smiled. "So… who chose the planetarium this week?" she then asked. "Was it you?" Patrick shook his head no. "Your father, then?" Patrick again shook his head no, as Lynette Johnson shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Your…mother?" Patrick didn't say anything; he just put his thumb back in his mouth, and started sucking it.

Grissom looked at Sara, and then at Brass. They needed to get Mrs. Sampson out of the room, if they were going to continue to talk to Patrick about her. This particular line of questioning seemed to make Patrick uncomfortable, and if they were going to get anything out of him, they had to do it without his mother being present. "Mrs. Sampson," Grissom cleared his throat. "Can you join me in the hallway, please?"

Shaking her head no, she replied, "I want to stay with my son."

"Ma'am," Brass spoke up, very quietly, "We really need to speak to your son about things that he might not want to talk about in front of you. You'll just be in the hallway, and you can watch him through the window… it would really help us get to the bottom of your husband's murder," he told her.

Mrs. Sampson finally nodded, and followed Grissom out of the room. Sara, turning her attention back to Patrick, smiled. "So your mom suggested the planetarium?" she asked. "That's one of my favorite places in the whole city to go to, you know," she told him. Patrick merely nodded, shaking his head. "So… Patrick… tell me about your father…"

"I love him," he whispered, using the present tense of the word. "He p-pr-protects me against all of the monsters…"

Sara looked over at Brass. "Which monsters, honey?" she asked, reaching her hand out to him.

Brass gently rested a hand on Sara's arm, non-verbally telling her not to move out of her seat.

"The ones under my bed… and in my closet… and…" he trailed off, beginning to cry.

Sara, ignoring Brass's hand on her arm, waked around the table, and scooped Patrick up in her arms. "And which other ones?" she then asked him.

"My mother…"

Outside, Grissom looked at Lynette Sampson, who had gone pale. Poking his head out of the observation room, he signaled for two armed police officers to stand guard, just in case the woman decided to run. "I… I have never touched a hair on my son's head," she told Grissom. Grissom remained silent.

"What does she do to you, Patrick?" Sara asked, smoothing out his hair.

"Hits me… yells at me… kicks me…" he said with a hiccup, now fully crying. "For being bad…"

Sara threw a glance at Brass, telling him that she was okay. Brass merely watched Patrick and Sara. For whatever reason, the two had definitely bonded.

"Honey… did your mom ever do anything to your father?"

"She told him that she wanted to di-divorce him, and take me away," he sobbed. "I don't know what that 'divorce' means, but I don't want to live with her," he admitted to Sara, resting his head on her shoulder. "I don't…" he cried into the crook of her neck.

Sara merely nodded. "It's okay, honey. But… do you know what your father said to her, Patrick? Think hard…" If they had been shouting loud enough, it's possible that he had heard everything.

"Uh-huh," Patrick whispered. "He said, 'Over my dead body.'"

Patrick held onto Sara's neck tightly, shaking. "It's okay, honey," Sara said, rocking him back and forth, trying to hide the anger on her face. Had his mother actually killed his father, just to gain custody of him, with an impending divorce? If she suggested the planetarium, and… wanted Patrick badly enough… it was possible.

Brass nodded to Sara. They had enough to get a warrant for the Sampson's household, where they would search for anything that would tie Lynette Sampson to her husband's murder. "Good job, Patrick," he said before standing up. "And good job, Sara," he added, exiting the room and looking at Grissom in the observation room. "I'll get the warrant, you assemble your team," he told the man, before running off in search of a judge. _And Child Protective Services will come get the boy… _he sighed to himself, once more glancing through the observation window.

"Ma'am? Right this way," one of the officers said to Lynette Sampson, as he walked her down the hallway. "We're going to find you a nice place to wait until all of this is taken care of."

"What about my son?" she asked.

"He'll be fine," the officer replied.

Grissom, still in the observation room, looked through the glass. "You did good, Sara. You did good."

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TO BE CONTINUED 


	19. The Planetarium: The Conclusion

**A/N: **Well… thank you to everyone who took the time to read this fic, and to comment on it. I appreciated the fact that you took the time to let me know what you thought about the story, and I am glad that for the most part, you enjoyed what you read! I can't believe how short this chapter is… I hope you like the conclusion, though!

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. For more detail on Matthew and Sara's life in foster care, check out QuoththeRaven's "The Life & Times of Sara Sidle." With her permission, I have begun to incorporate her interpretation of Sara's childhood into most of my stories.

**Title:** _The Planetarium: The Conclusion_

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Later that evening, Sara sat in the break room, with Patrick calmly sitting on her lap. "It's all going to be okay now, Patrick," she quietly told him, wondering if the words coming out of her mouth were really the truth. Things would be rough for Patrick, and Sara, of all people, certainly understood that. But she would be there for him, and she would try to help him through whatever lay ahead… to the best of her ability.

But in terms of the case itself, several hours before, Nick, Warrick, Greg, Grissom, and Catherine finished ransacking the Sampson's home, finding the murder weapon, Mrs' Sampson's fingerprints all over the handle of the gun, fibers from the seats at the planetarium on one of her shirts, and several blood drops on her shoes. After being interrogated by Brass, the woman admitted to killing her husband, because her son loved her husband more than he loved her. _No surprise on that one_, Sara thought to herself. _Why would Patrick ever love the abuser more than the protector?_

Looking down at the small boy, and gently holding him in her arms, Sara sighed. "You're going to stay with me for a couple of days, sweetheart, until your aunt and uncle can come and get you… if that's okay with you?" she asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes, as he continued to suck his thumb. Patrick nodded that that was okay, quietly resting his head on Sara's shoulder.

It was no small feat getting Child Protective Services to allow Sara to take Patrick home with her for a couple of days, but for whatever reason, Grissom and Brass had helped smooth things over. "Okay," she whispered, standing up with Patrick still in her arms. "Let's get out of here, then," she added with a small smile, as she left the break room, Grissom watching her leave. "I know, Grissom…we have to talk. Tomorrow, though, okay…? By phone…?" she asked her supervisor, knowing that they would have to debrief one another before she came back to work, later that week.

Grissom merely nodded, a smile on his face. Tomorrow, they would clear the air, and he would make sure that Sara was truly okay. Tomorrow, after all, was a brand new day.

_Yeah… tomorrow, Sara, _Joan thought to herself. _Tomorrow is a brand new day… tomorrow, you will continue to save the world, _she grinned to herself, crawling back toward her spider web. After all, it had been a very long shift, and she was all tuckered out.

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_Finis _


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